40. Presley #2
“Don't be.”
That surprises me.
Hades looks at me for another second. “What did Wilder say?”
I take a breath. “He said you're in love with me.”
Complete silence.
He doesn't blink. Doesn't move. Doesn't even seem to breathe.
And suddenly I understand exactly why Wilder had to figure it out himself.
This man is fucking hopeless.
“Was he wrong?”
He looks toward the floor.
“Hades?”
“No.”
My pulse jumps. “No, he wasn't wrong?”
His eyes meet mine again. “No.”
I wait.
That's apparently all I'm getting.
“You're really going to make me drag this out of you?”
“I've never said it before.”
The irritation leaves me. “Oh.”
“To anyone.”
Oh.
Something soft and painful opens inside my chest.
Hades looks almost angry about it. Not at me. At himself. At the vulnerability of having those words inside him.
For a man who can admit to murder without looking away, apparently this is the confession that scares him.
I take the final step between us.
I feel the heat of his body now. Smell cedar and clean soap.
“Say it.”
His smoky eyes lock onto mine. “Presley.”
“Say it.”
His throat moves.
He’s silent for another beat.
“I love you.”
My eyes burn.
Fuck him.
Seriously.
Fuck him for making those three words sound like something dragged straight out of his chest.
He keeps going. “I don't know how to do this right.”
“That has become painfully obvious.”
His mouth twitches. “But I love you.”
My vision blurs.
“I loved you before I knew what the fuck it was.”
Oh God.
“I think I loved you when you told me you wanted to be a professor.”
My lips part.
“Maybe before.”
His voice gets rougher.
“I loved you when you were scared of me.”
That sounds exactly like Hades.
“I loved you when you trusted me.”
Pain flashes across his expression.
“And I fucking hated myself when I realized I'd used one against the other.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
Hades's hand twitches at his side. He wants to wipe it away.
But he doesn't.
That might be what breaks me.
I reach out and take his hand. Hades inhales sharply.
For weeks, he's touched me whenever he wanted. Tonight, his fingers don't close around mine until I squeeze first.
Then they do.
His thumb tentatively brushes over my knuckles.
Hades being tentative. What a fucking terrifying concept.
“I love you too.”
His hand goes completely still.
I laugh through the tears. “You look more shocked by that than anything we’ve discussed tonight.”
“I am.”
“Well, that's disturbing.”
“Presley.”
“I do.”
His eyes search my face.
“I love you.”
The walls around him crumble.
His eyes close. His forehead drops toward mine but stops before touching.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Only then does he press his forehead against mine.
His exhale shudders between us.
I close my eyes.
For a few seconds, neither of us moves.
I let myself feel him. All of him.
Loving him doesn't mean pretending the things he did to me were okay. It means I know the truth. And I know what I'm choosing.
I pull back enough to look at him. “This doesn't mean everything is fixed.”
“I know.”
“You have work to do.”
“Okay.”
“Trust doesn't magically come back because you had a horrible childhood.”
“You’re right.”
“I really need you to stop agreeing with everything.”
“No.”
I blink. Then laugh. “There he is.”
His mouth finally curves.
And fuck, I've missed that too.
I reach up and touch his face. Hades leans into my palm.
My heart aches. “You know what the weirdest part is?”
“There are a lot of options.”
“The Masked Man isn't actually the problem.”
His expression changes. “No?”
“No.”
Something dangerous wakes behind his eyes.
Oh, for fuck's sake. “Control yourself.”
“I am.”
“Barely.”
“Presley.”
I smile. “The mask isn't going away.”
He becomes very still.
I probably shouldn't enjoy that, but I do.
“I liked him.”
“I know.”
“Stop looking so smug.”
“Trying not to.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“I know.”
“And apparently...” I sigh. “I'm into that.”
His thumb moves over my hand. “I know.” He smiles. “You have a mask kink.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
“Don't push it.” My smile widens.
His gaze darkens. “So the mask stays?”
“The mask stays.”
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face.
There he is.
My stalker.
My psychopath.
My boyfriend?
Jesus Christ. We really need a relationship-status conversation at some point.
“But,” I add.
The smile disappears.
“Rules.”
His brow lifts.
“If the mask comes out, I know it's you.”
“Yes.”
“No pretending otherwise.”
“Promise.”
“If I don't want to be chased, you don't chase me.”
His jaw tightens. “Fine.”
I narrow my eyes. “Hades.”
“Yes.”
“And no appearing outside my bedroom window unless we've discussed it.”
His mouth twitches. “That's very specific.”
“I've learned specificity matters with you.”
“Fair.”
“No breaking into my house.”
“What if you forget to latch the back door?”
“Then you text me like a normal fucking person and tell me.”
“That sounds inefficient.”
“Hades.”
“Fine.”
I stare at him a moment.
“Oh, God. Penny let you in, didn’t she?”
He shrugs. “Technically, no.” His lips twitch. “She just led me to your bedroom.”
I mutter curses.
“Okay. New rule. Penny is not allowed to provide unauthorized entry.”
“That's between Penny and me.”
I stare at him. “Hades.”
“She has rights.”
“She has a walnut-sized brain.”
“She knows what she wants.”
“She wants cheese.”
“And me.”
Unfortunately, he's right.
I sigh. “She does.” I shake my head. “This relationship is already exhausting.”
His expression changes.
I realize what I said at the exact same moment he does.
Relationship.
Fuck.
Hades's fingers tighten around mine. “Relationship?”
“Don't make it weird.”
“You called it a relationship.”
“I heard myself.”
“So we're together.”
I study him.
His grin appears. A real one.
Suddenly I see him.
Not the monster. Or the murderer. Or the boy Grant hurt.
Just Hades.
The man I fell in love with somewhere between dark romance recommendations, Halloween sweaters, stalking outside my windows, coffee, horror movies, and being chased through the woods.
My impossible, terrifying, fucked-up man.
I sigh. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
Jesus. Maybe I deserve this after dragging I love you out of him.
“Yes. We're together.”
His eyes close briefly.
When they open again, there's so much intensity in them my pulse jumps.
“And you're sure?”
“I haven't forgotten what you did. Or magically forgiven all of it.” I step closer until my body brushes his. “But I'm not leaving.”
His breath catches.
“Hades.”
“Yeah?”
“I choose you.”
His eyes close.
My chest tightens. “All of you.”
When his eyes open again, they're darker.
My fingers curl into his shirt. “Even the terrifying asshole in the woods.”
His mouth twitches.
“And the man behind the mask.”
His hand settles carefully at my waist.
“And the man standing in front of me right now.”
His grip tightens. Something fierce moves over his face. “You're sure you know what you're choosing?”
“No.”
His eyebrows raise.
I smile. “But for once, neither of us gets to pretend I don't know who I'm choosing.”
Hades stares at me.
Then his forehead touches mine again. “I don't deserve you.”
“Probably not.”
A rough laugh leaves him. His hand slides around my waist and he pulls me closer.
“But lucky for you, I apparently have questionable taste in men.”
“Extremely.”
“And murderers.”
“One murderer.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It should be. I'm selective.”
I laugh.
And this time, when Hades lowers his mouth toward mine, he stops barely an inch away. Close enough that I feel his breath.
My heart squeezes. “Now you're asking permission?”
“Yes.”
“Every time?”
“If that's what you want.”
I stare at his mouth. Then into his eyes. “No.”
His brow furrows.
“I don't need you to ask me every time you kiss me.”
I slide my hand behind his neck. “I need to know you'll listen when I say no.”
His expression turns serious. “Always.”
I believe him. Because this time, belief isn't something he manufactured for me. It's a choice I'm making with my eyes open.
I pull his mouth to mine.
It’s a real kiss. A new beginning.
When we finally pull apart, Hades keeps me against him.
I glance toward the window. Dark woods stretch beyond the glass.
I've stared into those trees, wondering if someone was watching me. Then wishing he was. Then hating that he wasn't.
I look back at Hades. “You know what's really fucked up?”
“So many possibilities.”
“I think I'm going to miss looking for you out there.”
His eyes darken instantly.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Your face did.”
“What did it say?”
“That you're already planning something.”
A slow smile appears.
Maybe I should be concerned. Instead, warmth curls through me.
“No loopholes,” I remind him.
“No loopholes.”
“And I have to know it's you.”
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I am.”
I shake my head. “Psychopath.”
He grins, still holding me tightly in his arms. “Little bookworm.”
I rise onto my toes and kiss him again.
And for the first time since he appeared outside my window, there isn't a single thing standing between me and the man in front of me.